Indeed this last line is generally added.

Il a la conscience de la jument Rabey qui mangit s’en poulâin.—He has the conscience of Rabey’s mare, who ate her foal. Said of an utterly hard-hearted and unscrupulous man. The Rabeys are a well-known country family, and it is possible that this proverb refers to some domestic tragedy, the details of which have long been forgotten.

Avoir le corset de Maître George.—To wear the corset of Maître George. An allusion is here meant to a certain George Fénien. The Féniens were a family who owned property in Fountain Street, and seem to have become extinct towards the middle of the eighteenth century. This expression is applied to an indolent man, so that the “Maître George Fénien”[258] here alluded to must have lived up to his name, Fénien—Fainéant—a sluggard. We have seen in some of the preceding proverbs and sayings, allusions to individuals and families. Here are two or three more of the same kind:—

I’ fait de sen Quéripel.—Is untranslatable literally, but may be rendered “he acts like a Quéripel.” and is said of a man whose vanity leads him to give himself airs, and take too much upon himself. The name existed in Guernsey as early as the fourteenth century, at which time it was written Carupel, but there is not the slightest clue when or how the saying originated. It may possibly be a corruption of some proverbial expression current in Normandy.

Il est dans les Arabies de Mons. Roland.—“He has got into Mr. Roland’s Arabias,” is a remark made when a preacher, a public speaker, or any one who sets up for a talker, has got beyond his depth, and is discoursing on a subject which he does not understand. The Rolands, now extinct, are believed to have been a Huguenot family that took refuge in Guernsey in the sixteenth century.[259] The Mons^r. Roland who figures in the saying is supposed to have been a schoolmaster.[260]

Ch’est prendre de Pierre Chyvret pour dounaïr à Monsieur Careye.—“It is taking from Pierre Chyvret to give to Mr. Carey,” is used in the sense of “sending coals to Newcastle,” or “taking from the poor to give to the rich;” but who the particular individuals were whose names figure in this saying it is impossible to say. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth a Mr. Nicholas Careye was farmer of most, if not all, the mills in Guernsey situated on the Crown domain, he being then Her Majesty’s Receiver. At a time when all persons residing on a manor were obliged to bring their corn to be ground at their Lord’s mill, under severe penalties, such a monopoly in the mills as Mr. Carey possessed, must have tended to make him a very wealthy man.[261] It is not unlikely that he, or one of his immediate descendants, who enjoyed the same privilege, may have been the person whose name became proverbial for riches. The name of Peter Chyvret occurs in another saying too coarse to be quoted, but which suggests the idea that he may have been an idiot, and, if so, probably living on charity. It is, however, worth noting that a certain Peter Chyvret was, about the beginning of the present century, in possession of property situated in the neighbourhood of one of the mills of which we have spoken. He is reported to have been one of those eccentric characters of whom it is difficult to say whether they have all their mental faculties—a mixture, in fact, of shrewdness and simplicity. As he was by no means in indigent circumstances it is scarcely probable that he can be the same man alluded to in this saying.

Tenir à pìnche-beleïne.—Means to hold lightly, without a firm grasp. It is used in the following proverbial saying:—

—Which may be freely translated:—“Holding on too lightly, if I fall from the tree I shall say nothing about it.” If I suffer from my own negligence I must not complain.

Proverbial Sayings.

We now come to a class of proverbial sayings which might almost claim an exclusive right to the title of “Folk-Lore,”—those relating to the weather and other natural phenomena; and which, being the result of long experience on the part of the people, are religiously believed in by them. Many of these sayings are common, in spirit if not in form, to the greater part of Europe; some of them are confined to certain districts; and, although a few may have a superstitious aspect, such as those which profess to predict what events will happen in the course of the year from an observation of the weather on a particular holy day, yet some of them may be worthy the notice of meteorologists, who have discovered that, in many cases, the probable character of the weather in a particular month may be guessed at by that which prevailed at an earlier season.

Janvier a daeux bouniaux (deux bonnets), Février en a treis (trois).—January wears two caps, February wears three. As a rule February is the coldest month in the year. In a curious old MS. of the sixteenth century, containing memoranda of household accounts, copies of wills, and various entries of more or less interest, written between the years 1505 and 1569 by various members of a family of the name of Girard, landed proprietors in the parish of Ste. Marie-du-Castel in Guernsey, we find the following weather prognostications for St. Vincent’s Day (January 22nd), and the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul, (January 25th).

Similar sayings are to be found in Latin, English, German, Italian, and other languages.

February, as every one knows, is the shortest month in the year; but few know why. This is how it is accounted for by old people in Guernsey:—“Février dit à Janvier:—‘Si j’étais à votre pièche (place) je f’rais gelaïr (geler) les pots sus le faeu (feu) et les p’tits éfàns (enfants) aux seins de leurs mères’—et pour son ìmpudence i’ fut raccourchi (raccourci) de daeux jours, et Janvier fut aloigni (alongé).‘” February said to January:—If I were in your place I would cause the pots to freeze on the fire, and babes at their mothers’ breasts, and for his insolence he was shortened of two days, and January was lengthened.

The most intense cold in the year generally sets in with February; and this saying reminds me of what is told in Scotland, and in many parts of the north of England, of the borrowing days, the three last days of March (See Brand’s Popular Antiquities, Bohn’s edition, Vol. II., p. 41-44). It appears, however, according to this authority, that in the Highlands of Scotland the borrowing days are the three first days of February, reckoned according to the old style, that is, the days between the eleventh and the fifteenth.

February 2nd, Candlemas Day. Fine weather on this day is supposed to prognosticate a return of cold. The following lines were communicated by a country gentleman, but they have not quite the same antique ring as those relating to St. Paul’s and St. Vincent’s Days, and may, possibly, be a more recent importation from France.

Quànd Mars durerait chent àns l’hiver durerait autànt.—If March were to last for a hundred years, winter would last as long.

Mars qui entre coume ùn agné (agneau) sortira coume ùn touaré (taureau).—The Guernsey form of this saying substitutes a bull in the place of a lion.

Mars a enviaï (envoyé) sa vieille trachier (chercher) des bûquettes (buchettes).—When, after a spell of comparatively mild weather, March comes with blustering winds, breaking off the small dry branches from the trees, the country people say that he has sent out his old wife to look for sticks; and predict that, as he is laying in a store of fuel, the cold is likely to last.

Pâques Martine—guerre, peste, ou famine.—Easter happening in March, forebodes war, pestilence, or famine.

A Noué à ses perrons, à Pâques à ses tisons.—If at Christmas you can sit at your doorstep, at Easter you will be glad to sit by your fire.

Avril le doux—quànd il s’y met le pière de tous.—Or, as the Norman antiquary, Pluquet, gives it:—“Quand il se fâche, le pire de tous.”—When the weather is bad in April, it is the worst of all the months.

En Avril, ne quitte pas ùn fil.—In April leave not off a stitch of clothing—a piece of advice which is well warranted by the sudden and extreme changes in the temperature in this month. On the other side, this advice holds good a month later—“Till May be out cast not a clout.”

Caud (chaud) Mai, gras chimequière (cimetière), fred (froid) Mai, granges pllaïnes (pleines).—A warm May, a fat churchyard, a cold May, fat granaries.

A’ la mié Août, l’hiver noue.—About mid-August there is usually a marked change in the weather, gales of wind and heavy rain generally occurring at this season, and any long continuance of settled fine weather, is scarcely to be hoped for. This has led to the remark that winter “sets” at this time; as the blossoms in Spring set for fruit.

A’ la mi-S’tembre, les jours et les nits s’entre ressemblent.—In the middle of September, days and nights are alike.

Six s’maïnes avant Noué, et six s’maïnes après, les nits sont les pûs longues, et les jours les pûs freds.—Six weeks before Christmas and six weeks after, the nights are the longest and the days the coldest. This saying is scarcely correct in Guernsey, as very cold weather about the end or the beginning of the year is rather the exception than the rule in this climate.

Si le soleil liet à méjeur, le jour de Noué, il y aura bien des faeux l’annaïe ensuivant.—If the sun shines at noon on Christmas Day, there will be many fires lighted in the ensuing year.

Aube gelaïe est biétôt lavaïe.—Hoar-frost is soon washed away, or, as another weather proverb says:—“Après treis aubes gelaïes vient la pllie.”—After three hoar-frosts comes rain, a saying which experience amply bears out.

Vent d’amont qui veur duraïr, au sér va se reposaïr.—An east wind that intends to last, goes to rest in the evening.

Vent d’amont ôve (avec) pllie, ne vaut pas un fllie (patelle).—An east wind with rain is not worth a limpet.

Quand i’ plleut ôve vent d’amont, ch’est merveille si tout ne fond.—Rain from the east is rare; but when it does occur it is so heavy and continuous as to give rise to the saying that it is a wonder that everything does not melt.

Cherne (cerne) à la lune, le vent, la pllie, ou la brune.—When there’s a circle round the moon, wind, rain, or fog, will follow soon.

Cherne de llien (loin), tourmente de près; cherne de près, tourmente de llien.—If the halo round the moon is large and at a distance, it denotes that a storm is at hand, if, on the contrary, it is small and near the moon, the storm will not arrive for some time.

Cherne à la lune, jamais n’a fait amenaïr mât d’hune.—A circle round the moon has never caused top-mast to be struck. It is difficult to reconcile this saying with the preceding, unless by supposing that sailors are so convinced that a circle round the moon portends bad weather that they are careful to shorten sail before the gale comes on.

Cherne au soleil i’ ne fera pas demain bel.—A solar halo means bad weather to-morrow.

If the sun sets red, it is a sign of fine weather, but when he rises red, you may expect to see pools of water on the road.

Rouage ser, gris matin, ch’est la jouaie (joie) du pélerin.—A red evening and a grey morning are the pilgrim’s joy, but this saying is sometimes varied to:—

Rouage sèr, bllanc matin, ch’est la journaïe du pélerin.—A red evening and a white morning is the day for the pilgrim.

En Avril, le coucou crie, s’il est en vie.—In April, the cuckoo sings, if he is alive. The cuckoo generally arrives in Guernsey about the 15th of April.

Agricultural Sayings.

It is not easy to draw a clear line between those sayings which have reference to the weather, and those which relate to agricultural pursuits and experience; but the following appear to fall more naturally under the latter head:—

When it rains with a westerly wind it feeds man and beast; but when it rains with an east wind, it is a marvel if everything does not melt.

Rainbow in the evening, fair to see; rainbow in the morning, there will be pools on the roads.

Si tu vois le soleil le jour de la Chandeleur, sauve le foin, car tu en auras besoin.—If you see the sun on Candlemas Day, save your hay for you will want it.

A’ la Paintecoûte, les grouaïsiaux se goûtent.—Green gooseberries are in perfection at Whitsuntide.

De la St. Michel à Noué (Noel) une pllante ne sait pas chu (ce) que nou (on) li fait.—From Michaelmas to Christmas a plant does not know what you do to it.

De la Toussaint à Noué un arbre ne sait pas chu que non li fait.—From All Saints’ Day to Christmas a tree knows not what is done to it. The autumnal quarter is supposed to be the best for transplanting trees or shrubs, as at that time the vigorous growth that had been going on in spring and summer has ceased, and there is less danger of their suffering from the change.

Noué n’est pas Noué sàns pâcrolle (paquerette primevère).—Christmas is not Christmas unless there be primroses.

Noué est pûtôt Noué, sans pâcrolle, que sans agné (agneau).—A Christmas without primroses is more rare than a Christmas without lambs. Another version is:—

Nou ne vit jamais Noué, sans pâcrolle ou p’tit agné.—This saying, as well as the preceding, seems to refer particularly to the occurrence of that harbinger of spring, the primrose, at this season. With the exception occasionally of a few very cold days about the beginning of November, the weather in Guernsey up to Christmas, and frequently far into January, is remarkably mild; vegetation is scarcely checked, and many summer flowers continue to bloom freely up to this time. It is a well-known fact that the primrose, like many other plants and most bulbs, has its period of repose during the hot and dry weather of summer, the flowering ceasing about the end of May, and the leaves withering away. In the autumn there is a fresh growth of leaves, and the flower buds, which had been already formed towards the end of spring, but had been prevented by the drought from expanding, are ready to burst into bloom with the mild days that generally usher in Christmas, the earliest blossoms being invariably found on the north sides of the hedges, where the latest flowers of the preceding summer lingered, the plants with a south aspect having exhausted their bloom in the hot weather.

This saying refers to the apple crop, and the quantity of cider that may be expected, judging from the month in which the trees come into bloom.

Sow your cucumbers in March, you will want neither bag nor sack; sow them in April, you will have a few; I will sow mine in May, and I shall have more than you.

Pouit (point) de vraic, pouit de haugard.—No seaweed, no corn ricks. The sea-weed, vraic or varech, which grows in such abundance on all the rocks round the islands, is of the utmost importance to the farmer. It is almost the only dressing used for the land, stable manure being scarce and expensive. Hence the saying quoted above; for without sufficient manure the crops are sure to fall short. The haugard, or, more correctly, haut gard, (high yard) is the enclosure near a homestead on which the ricks are erected.

Débet (dégel) de pllie, ne vaut pas une fllie (patille); débet de sec, vaut demi-fumaeure (fumier).—A thaw with rain is not worth a limpet; a thaw with dry weather is worth half a load of manure.

Un essaim en Mai—vaut une vaque (vache) à lait.—A swarm of bees in May is worth a milch cow.

Où est qu’ll y a un cardon (chardon) ch’est du pain; où est qu’ill y a du laitron, ch’est la faim.—Where thistles grow there will be bread, where the sow-thistle grows it is famine. The latter is mostly found in very poor land.

Il vaut mûx pour ùn houme d’aver un percheux (paresseux) dans son ménage qu’un frêne sur s’n hêritage.—It is better for a man to have a lazy fellow in his service than an ash-tree on his estate. The shade of the ash is believed to be destructive of all vegetation over which it extends; and it is this belief that has in all probability given rise to this saying. This proverb sometimes takes the following form:—

Piscatory and Maritime Sayings.

The following sayings may be termed piscatory and maritime.

A quànd le bœuf est las, le bar est gras.—When the ox is weary, that is, when ploughing has come to an end for the season, the bass is in good condition. This fish is decidedly best in summer.

A quànd l’orge épicotte, le vrac est bouan sous la roque.—When the barley comes into ear, the wrasse or rock-fish, is at its best.

L’âne de Balaam a pâlaï (parlé) j’airon du macré (maquereau).—Balaam’s ass has spoken, we shall soon have mackerel. The mackerel, it is almost needless to say, is a migratory fish, arriving on our coasts in the spring, and remaining with us till late in the summer. Formerly the reading of the First Lesson at Evensong on the first Sunday after Easter, in which the story of Balaam and his ass is told, was considered a sure indication that the welcome shoals would soon make their appearance. The Cornish fishermen have the same saying.

Old fishermen pay great attention to the direction of the wind at sunset on old Michaelmas Day (10th October), for they firmly believe that from whatever point it blows at that time, the prevailing winds for two-thirds of the ensuing twelve months will be from that quarter.

Whether it be spring tides or neap tides, when the moon is due south it will be low water.

Editor’s Note.—Another version: “Vive iaue ou morte iaue, La lune au sud, il est basse iaue.”—From John de Garis, Esq.

Various Sayings.

A few sayings omitted may find a place here:—

Alle ira sû le coquet de l’Eglise ramendaïr (racommoder) les braies (culottes) des viers garçons.—She will get a seat on the weather-cock of the church and mend old bachelor’s breeches, is said of old maids, and is equivalent to the English saying, “She will lead apes in hell.”

Ch’est une autre pâre (paire) de cauches (bas, chausses).—That’s another pair of stockings, is used in the sense of “That’s quite another affair.”

A quànd les filles suffllent (sifflent) le guiablle (diable) s’éhuque.—When girls whistle the devil laughs outright. Whistling is not generally reckoned among feminine accomplishments, and by many would certainly be considered as a symptom of what, in the present day, is termed “fastness” in the fair sex.

According to the Northamptonshire proverb:—

In Normandy they say:—“Une poule qui chante le coquet, et une fille qui siffle, portent malheur dans la maison.”[262]

And in Cornwall:—“A whistling woman and a crowing hen, are the two unluckiest things under the sun.”

Trachier (chercher) la Ville par Torteval.—To seek for the Town by way of Torteval, is said of one who goes a round-about way to work. The rural parish of Torteval, situated at the south-west corner of Guernsey, is, of all the parishes in the island, the one furthest removed from the town of St. Peter Port. Compare the French “Chercher midi à quatorze heures.”

Il ôt (ouit, entend) fin coume une iragne (araignée).—His sense of hearing is as quick as that of a spider. Whether the abrupt retreat of the common wall-spider into the inner recesses of its web, at the approach of anything that alarms it, is to be attributed to the sense of hearing, sight, or feeling, would be difficult to determine. The fact, however, has been noticed, and has given rise to this saying.

In all countries and in all ages jealousies and dislikes have existed between neighbouring communities. The inhabitants in Guernsey and Jersey are not exempt from these feelings, which find vent in malicious tales told of each other. The saying quoted above is common in Guernsey; probably its counterpart exists in Jersey, substituting “Guernesiais” for “Jerriais.” It by no means follows, however, that the want of comfort in these mixed marriages may not be quite as attributable to the one side as the other.

Il y a terjoûs quiqu’ùn qui a sa qu’minse à sequier.—There is always some one wanting to dry his shirt. The weather never suits everybody’s wants.

I’ n’a que vie d’alàngouraï (languissant).—Equal to the English saying “A creaking door hangs longest.”

Si un houme n’a pas le sens de pâlaïr (parler) il est bien sâge s’il a le sens de se taire.—A man who has not the sense to speak is still a wise man if he has the sense to hold his tongue.

I’ faut savèr ouïr, véer, et se taire.—One should know how to hear, see, and be silent.

La s’maïne qui vient.—is the equivalent of the English “To-morrow come-never.”

Chu qu’ nou n’a jamais veu, et jamais ne verra, Ch’est le nic d’une souaris dans l’oreille d’un cat.—In the Folk-Lore Record, Vol. III., Part I., p. 76, we find the Breton equivalent of this saying:—“One thing you have never seen, a mouse’s nest in a cat’s ear.” We are not told, however, whether the proverb is found in the French patois of Upper Brittany, or in the Celtic dialect still spoken in Lower Brittany—la Bretagne bretonnante.

I’ va d’vànt ses bêtes, or I’s’met d’vànt ses bêtes.—He is going before his team, is said of a prodigal, one who is out-running his income.

Ch’est une pouquie (pochée) de puches (puces) or de souaris.—Is a sackful of fleas, or of mice, is said of a person who is very lively and always on the move.

Il n’est si bouane (bonne) bête qui n’ait quiqu’ (quelque) ohi.—There is no beast so good but that it has some fault or vice. It is worthy of notice that the word “ohi” is gone entirely out of use except in this proverb.

I’ vit d’amour et de belles chansons—coum’ les alouettes de roques (pierres, cailloux).—The first part of this saying—He lives on love and fine songs—is frequently used alone, but it is often capped by the concluding words, “As larks do on stones,” meaning that something more nourishing is needed to keep body and soul together.

“Un mouisson (oisseau) dans la main vaut mûx que daeux qui volent.” “Un mouisson à la main en vaut daeux sur la branque (branche.)” “Un pourché (pourceau) dans sen parc en vaut daeux d’ par les rues.” All these are equivalent to the English proverb: “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” but the last must have originated in days long gone by, when swine were allowed to roam at their will about the streets.

I’ n’ y a pas de cousins à Terre-Neuve.—There are no cousins at Newfoundland. This somewhat selfish proverb, indicating that where one’s own interest is at stake the ties of consanguinity go for little, although occasionally heard in Guernsey, originated most probably either in Jersey or St. Malo, both which ports are largely engaged in the cod fisheries on the banks of Newfoundland. Jersey, indeed, owes her commercial prosperity almost entirely to this branch of industry, to which, it is said, the attention of the inhabitants was directed by Sir Walter Raleigh during the time that he held the office of Governor of the island. During the Middle Ages the fisheries in the Channel Islands were very productive, and a source of considerable revenue to the Crown, but the discovery of Newfoundland, and the superior quality of the codfish caught on its shores, drove the salted conger and mackerel of the island out of the market.

Le cul d’un sac et la langue d’une femme gagnent terjoûs.—In former days, when horses were more employed in carrying loads than they are at the present time when carts are in universal use, it was observed that a sack thrown across the back of a horse had a tendency to slip down gradually in the direction opposite to its mouth. This explains the first part of the proverb; the second part is equivalent to the saying that a woman will always have the last word and gain her end at last.

Nou veit bien pûs de meïnes de gâche crue que de biaux musiaux.—One sees many more pasty, doughy looking faces than pretty ones. Said in very cold weather.

Ch’n’est que faeu et fllâmme.—It is nothing but fire and flame, said of a boaster, and also of a passionate man, whose temper quickly rises, and as quickly dies down.

Pêle-mêle gabouaré.—Pell-mell, as merry-makers tumble out of a village inn. This word “gabouaré,” derived from the Bas Breton “gaborel,” is only found in this phrase.

Il est coume le pourché du negre, petit et vier.—He is small and old, like the negro’s pig.

Cope le cô, i.e., “coupe le cou,” is a common asseveration among children. They pronounce the words, drawing their right hand at the same time towards their throat, as if cutting it, and the action is meant to imply that they wish their throats may be cut if they do not tell the truth, or perform what they have promised.

Vaque (vache) d’un bouan égrùn (croissance).—A cow that does credit to her food, and that feeds close. Etre d’un bouan égrùn—is also said of children who look fat and healthy.

In conclusion, we will give a story which is often told in the country, as a warning to those who are apt to laugh at fools. A half-witted fellow, who had gone to the mill with his corn, was asked by the miller, who wanted to laugh at him:—“John, people say that you are a fool and know nothing. Now, tell me what you know and what you don’t know?” “Well!” answered John, “I know this, that millers have fine horses.” “That’s what you know,” said the miller. “Now tell me what you don’t know.” “I don’t know on whose corn they are fattened,” said John.

—From Denys Corbet.